Mermaid
by LemonMeringueTart
Summary: Jane / Maura established relationship. Maura is struggling with abuse she suffered as a child and the issues it is causing in her relationship with Jane. I am attempting to handle this subject matter delicately and maturely. The subject matter is dark and may be upsetting to some. Stand-alone fic (not related to any of my other fics)
1. Chapter 1

I wrote this in one sitting and barely proof read it. If anyone is interested in being a beta reader for me, please let me know. Excuse any typos / errors.

This is a delicate subject matter and I'm attempting to handle it with the respect it deserves. It's going to be a bumpy ride for sure. I will rely on your reviews / feedback to let me know if I'm going in the right direction.

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It was the voice echoing around the darkened room that lured her from the depths of sleep. Maura woke slowly; struggling to pull herself from the heavy quicksand that was her dream. She fought valiantly; kicking the covers that were twisted around her lower half until she stuck.

Mercifully, she woke up before panic could set in. Once she realized that the voice only existed in her dream, she sighed softly and forced herself to relax. Once her breathing calmed she felt her muscles soften and she was no longer imprisoned by the blankets.

Not usually an indecisive person, Maura had always found that a good decision made itself. She opted to shuffle this voice into the back of her brain and concentrate on the quietness of her bedroom and the peace it provided. She was safe here and well-protected in her haven of solitude by the one she loved most dear. She had never had a breach of security thus far; other than the voice from the past (and the memories associated with it) that crept through her dreams from time to time. Besides her gun-toting girlfriend and extensive (and expensive) security alarm she insisted on having installed around her home, she had the extra security of the yappy little Jo Friday who was currently calmly curled up behind her legs.

The quiet presence of Jane sitting in the chair in the corner of the room, silently sipping her coffee and reading the paper, eased Maura's discomfort further. Lit only by the dim table lamp, the detective's mahogany hair was vibrant and unruly; much like the detective was herself. Maura loved to bury her face in Jane's long curls, imagining that the tall woman was the source of all things safe and good.

"Morning," Jane's voice broke the silence of the room and Maura was grateful for it.

"Hi," Maura responded quietly. She sat up; yawning demurely before immediately starting her stretches. Jane regarded her fondly, a small and soft smile gracing the detective's lips.

"You okay? It looked like you were having a hell of a dream. I wasn't sure if I should wake you or not." Jane's long fingers teased the edges of her newspaper.

"It's fine; I'm fine," Maura said as much to herself as to the detective. "Anything good?" she asked, nodding toward the paper before rolling her head back and forth to relieve the tension that her nightly dreams always filled her with.

The brunette detective shrugged. "Not really. Same shit, different day."

Maura snorted softly as she closed her eyes and resumed her stretching. Jane interrupted her by rising from her chair and crossing over to the bed, leaning down to kiss her softly.

Maura, still caught in the haze of her upsetting dream, couldn't help but flinch ever so slightly. She felt Jane's gaze; her brown eyes amiss with confusion.

"You sure you're okay?" The detective asked gently as her eyes searched Maura's face. Maura suddenly felt exposed and vulnerable, and the rawness of Jane's inquiring gaze made her angry.

"I said I'm fine," She instantly regretted the harshness of her tone. "I'm sorry, Jane. I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm not quite awake yet and you caught me off-guard."

Jane ran a tentative hand through Maura's mussed curls. "Didn't mean to startle you. You up for breakfast?" Folding the paper, she gently swatted her girlfriend's arm when Maura failed to answer. "C'mon, let's go out. I'm starving."

Nodding emotionlessly, Maura was pleased to find that by concentrating on the day at hand the last traces of her discomfort gradually faded away. She gracefully rose from bed and began to start on her morning routine. She needed to speak to Jane about the dreams; needed her to understand how she was feeling.

It had been precisely seventy-five days and six hours after she promised herself to come clean to Jane (and had failed to do so); and Maura had practically admitted defeat. Maybe it's wasn't wrong to keep it a secret; she tried to convince herself. "It's not her business, really." Maura spoke out loud to her empty office. Internally, she knew that wasn't the case. How many times had Jane told her that she was her business now? That everything that upset her or concerned her, concerned Jane?

This secret was a deeply-embedded splinter, one that she had kept hidden for years. Try as she might, no amount of poking or prodding had been able to raise it completely from the depths of her memory to face the light of day. Sure, pieces would break off here and there, leaving jagged and rough edges that would catch her by surprise. Sometimes, if she turned suddenly or had a flash of memory she'd feel the sharp pain; the intensity of it almost taking her breath away. If she held still, tried to clear her mind, and focused on something else she could usually make it retreat back down to the murky depths of her memories past. Other times, the wound seemed so fresh and raw that she was surprised to be able to function normally at all.

"Just say it; tell her," Maura spoke angrily. The anger is what surprised her the most; uncontrollable, it surged through her like a red hot laser desperate to burn anyone in its path. The anger was a dangerous combination of combustible unpredictability and was ready to bubble over at any minute complete with a faulty fuse. Any little thing could light it at any time, and Maura was finding it more and more difficult to keep it contained.

Years ago; after it first happened, she was angry at herself. The hatred it created within herself was something that never fully went away. As she aged the inner turmoil turned into an irrational anger that had grown and continued to consume the dwindling rational parts of herself like an untamed wildfire.

She knew that Jane deserved an explanation of why sometimes she became so angry when the teenage bagger at the grocery store let his prepubescent gaze linger a mere second too long on her breasts, resulting in Maura snatching the items from his sweaty palms and chastising him for not being efficient or qualified to do his job. Maura understood why it would confuse Jane thoroughly when the very next week she would treat the same boy with an encouraging smile and 'job well done' pat on the back.

She wasn't crazy; although there were times where she doubted herself. She was unpredictable both in her actions and emotions; much like an abused animal. She never knew if she would react with fear, indifference, or aggression. The uncertainty of her reaction to a situation made her fear the reaction itself even more.

Maura had never intended to mimic a robot; however, her efficiency and high intelligence combined with her complete control over her emotions had long earned her the comparison. She had always worked so diligently to maintain this beautifully-crafted façade of a marble interior; flawless and seamless. To the casual observer, her parents, any friends, she was perfection personified with everything under control.

For so long she had been able to take all of her haunted memories filed in a small little compartment in her mind; it was locked away and covered by years of repression and falsified truths. She had buried it so deeply she thought it would be impossible for it to be unearthed.

Jane had uncovered it; unwittingly so. Every intimate touch left Maura a little more unguarded; each familiar glance excavated the compartment a little more. The closer she became to Jane, the closer the compartment came to the surface.

It was the devil's bargain; she had realized months ago that to continue her relationship with the detective would be the end of her perfected façade. It would have been so easy to push Jane away and return to the safety of herself; but oh how she would miss the elegant fingers that touched her so deeply inside, the sly smile that was only for her, and the comforting strength of her mere presence.

Like it or not; the dam containing everything she had kept under pressure for years had chosen now to fail. Maura wasn't certain why it was so; certainly there could be no 'lifespan' of a self-constructed dam. Regardless of the circumstances, the smokescreen she had so carefully created and cultivated for years was indeed crumbling. Sometimes only in bits and pieces; where little dusts of memory would unsettle her as they shifted from their rightful hidden place. Other times, large weight-bearing supports would crash down with no warning, leaving her jittery and angry for days.

Maura knew she didn't have long before the last ramparts under her control gave way; allowing the contents of her sordid past to come spilling out , drowning all in its path.

It clearly was Jane's fault; it was no surprise to Maura to reach the conclusion that the closer she was to Jane, the less control she had over herself. In her previous relationships, Maura made herself distant; both emotionally and physically. While by nature she was a sexual person, she employed a strict fantasy-life where any time she was physical she resorted to playing a role or a character; even if it was restricted to her mind only. Her partners never seemed to know or care that she was incapable of being in the present with them. She very rarely became serious with any of her dates and hardly had what she could consider a 'serious' relationship.

She could never let it get to that level; before Jane. Once the tall detective entered into her life, Maura knew her battle within herself had been lost. Jane could unearth raw emotion in her with nothing more than a sympathetic smile and gentle touch. She trusted Jane more than she had ever trusted anyone else; including herself. She knew Jane would never leave her and knew that she owned it to Jane to be open and honest with her.

But how could she? How could she tell Jane about how she was held down against her will as the voice on top of her whispered filthy things in her ear? She knew how Jane would react to hearing how the first few times Maura fought him with all of her might, but it never mattered. Jane wouldn't be able to hear how she was overpowered again and again. It would destroy her; send her on a path of unattainable revenge, and ruin any further intimacy between the two of them. Jane had been through enough herself; courtesy of Hoyt. Maura didn't have the scars that Jane had; at least not the visible ones. What would Jane think of her, when the very thing that Jane hated more than anything, was weakness?

Jane fought valiantly against weakness like it was her worst enemy. How many times had Maura listened to her gripe about a "weak" homicide victim who had chosen to stay with their abuser and subsequently ended up murdered by their abusive spouse? Jane hated anything she perceived as weakness; and it was not limited the overpaid and underachieving outfielder for the Red Sox, to the cheap construction of her Ikea bookshelf, or the local coffee shop who consistently wouldn't brew her coffee strong enough.

Weakness was not something that Jane understood or tolerated.

The disguise Maura had so carefully created and coated over herself like carefully applied layers of foundation over an acne-ridden face; this open wound she so carefully guarded was now exposed. The more of herself she opened up to Jane, the quicker the layers fell off, leaving areas of her raw and visible.

How much longer could she avoid telling Jane what she needed to tell her before she ruined the only real relationship she had ever had? She hated herself when she was with Jane; hated the dishonesty she felt when her anger took control and bubbled up to the surface like a flow of hot lava. She hated the hurt look on Jane's face when she snapped at her for no reason and lost her temper, hated the hatred she felt toward her own cowardice. How long until Jane, who thrived on honesty and strength, couldn't be strong for both of them anymore? The caring detective deserved a better partner; one who was as strong as she was.

"It might be for the best," Maura uttered out loud before awkwardly dropping her head to her hands. If she came clean with Jane, she would surely leave her. What person in their right mind would want the kind of damaged goods Maura was peddling?

Alone, Maura could carefully reconstruct the dam; adding layer upon layer of brick and mortared false-memories until anything painful was walled back up inside where it belonged. It would be so much easier, in so many aspects, to return to her anti-social persona. She had never had a close friend before Jane and she was certain she could maintain an appropriate amount of satisfaction if she spent the rest of her life concentrating on her professional life; taking a lover here and there if she felt the need.

She would miss Jane's hands the most. Long and elegant, she had the hands of a classical pianist. The scars, clearly evident on both sides, only added to the intrigue. They exemplified the perfect contrast between beauty and ugliness, and Maura always had to suppress a sensual shudder when the whites of the scars stood out when Jane was clenched in either anger or passion. Her strong hands were adept at finding the perfect pressure point to relieve a nagging muscle, gently push a stray lock of hair back into place, and adeptly squeeze the trigger on a gun at the required time, and for as many times as were required.

Maura flinched when she imagined those hands caressing someone else. Jane could have anyone she desired; man or woman. She allowed her imagination to run rampant for a few seconds more and then deftly reeled it back under her control like an adept fisherman before her stomach threatened to void its contents.

Sighing, Maura stood up and calmly shifted all of her parts and pieces neatly back into place. Only once she was assured that her façade was indeed intact did she leave her office. It was time to go home. She would go upstairs and find Jane and smile at her warmly. Once they were in the car she would accept Jane's gentle kiss and they would hold hands on the way home. Maura would continue to live the lie as long as possible until she was strong enough to do the right thing and let Jane go.

Was a lie truly a lie, if you wanted to be honest about what you were lying about?

They met in the hallway; Maura unable to keep the smile from her face as the tall detective practically swaggered over to her.

"Hey."

"Hello," Maura responded as she demurely took Jane's proffered arm. "I was just on my way upstairs."

"Ah. When you didn't answer my texts I thought I'd come check up on you. Figured you might be arms deep in some dead guy."

"Jane," Maura chided good-naturedly, "show some respect."

Using her free hand she rummaged through her purse in search of her phone. "I'm sorry I missed your texts; I've been at my desk for the past hour but obviously failed to hear my phone chime. I must have been more distracted than I thought."

"It's okay," Jane soothed. "I figured something was up. I'm glad to hear it was just some harmless daydreaming instead of you going and getting yourself in trouble." The detective smiled to show she was kidding.

"If only," Maura muttered softly. She didn't miss Jane's barely perceptible sharp intake of air.

"Maur," Jane said her name reverently as she stopped walking. Looking down at the smaller woman she offered her an encouraging smile; her chocolate eyes searching those of the woman she loved so dearly. "I keep asking you if you're okay and you keep telling me you're fine. But are you? Fine, I mean?"

"Yes and no," Maura answered honestly. "I mean, I've been truthful with you. I'm fine in the sense that I'm functioning normally at work, my health is good, and you make me very happy."

"Okaaaaaaay," Jane drawled. "Why do I feel like there's a huge but in there somewhere. So spill it. What's the but?"

Maura narrowed her eyes. "I don't understand, Jane."

The detective smiled warmly; but Maura could clearly see the anxiousness in her eyes. "You said yes and no. What's the no?"

The smaller woman shook her head stiffly. "I think, ah," she grimaced uncomfortably. "Jane, can we possibly have this conversation somewhere else? I'm very uncomfortable right now."

"Of course," the detective answered graciously. She resumed holding Maura's arm and began to walk toward the elevator again. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry and I know it's lousy timing."

"No, it's fine," Maura stammered nervously, "you have every reason to ask and I hate myself for making you ask. I promise we'll talk."

The tension between them was palpable and it unnerved Maura to the point where she was unsure if her legs would steady her all the way to the car. She was practically trembling all over and it was only Jane's strength that allowed her to continue upright. Mostly, she was angry at herself for putting Jane through more anxiety. The detective had been through more than her fair share of unrest in her life already and certainly didn't need any contributions from Maura's own inner turmoil.

As they got into the car, Jane spoke again; her husky voice unusually unnerved. "I miss you. I miss us. It's been…" the detective struggled with her words; glancing down at her twitching hands that nervously began to toy with the end of her blazer, "difficult." She cleared her throat. "I miss how we used to be. You just haven't been yourself lately." Her dark eyes returned to those of her partner, noticing the obvious discomfort lurking underneath the surface.

Maura felt herself be studied and tried to remain impassive. She couldn't blame Jane for her actions, if the situation was reversed; Maura was certain she'd be frantically trying to 'fix' things and would focus on diagnosing Jane. Still, it was a vulnerable feeling and she was relieved when after several minutes of quiet contemplation, Jane merely shrugged.

"You'll tell me when you're ready," The detective said calmly.

Maura both envied and feared Jane's confidence and trust in her. She wished she had it herself.

They drove home in silence; once home Jane set about taking Jo for a walk while Maura worked in the garden. It was here; surrounded by her flowers that she felt solace. The quiet sanctity of the sun-kissed petals and greenery calmed her nerves and allowed her to feel part of something beautifully grand. She didn't feel as suffocated or overwhelmed as she'd been feeling.

She had an autopsy today; a teenager who made the mistake of diving into a rocky lake in far too shallow water. He had hit his head underwater and fell unconscious; the murky water concealing his prone form. His friends hadn't reacted quickly; thinking he was playing a joke on them. He drowned without anyone ever attempting CPR.

Staring down at his blue-tinged body, Maura felt such sadness. Lucky for him, the significant blow to the head that rendered him unconscious spared him from the terrible death that accompanied drowning.

The feeling of drowning was one that Maura was well familiar with; while she had not had a near-drowning experience, she was able to understand the described physical symptoms as she experienced them herself many times. It always started off with such an intense pressure on her chest that it left her unable to take in a full breath. Her eyes became blurry; unable to see the surface her hands would clench at her sides as if she was frantically trying to bring herself back up into the daylight.

It was possible for her to feel as if she was drowning while standing on dry land. It was so overwhelming to be without breath; especially when her body forbade it, as if the breath itself she desired was the enemy.

She rubbed her nose with the back of her garden glove and continued weeding. The itch on her nose wasn't sated and in frustration she took her gloves off and scratched it again; her elegantly manicured nails providing the itch relief she needed.

Her warm breath tickled her palm. Suddenly, behind the crumbling mortar of her psyche flashed an image of herself with a shadowy figure holding her down. She was too young to understand why this was happening, but old enough to understand without certainty what was going to happen. The shadow's hand was so strong and held firmly over her mouth. She couldn't breathe. His knuckles were prominent, the back of his hand hairy. Try as she might, air eluded her. As she sunk further into the bed, pushed down into oblivion by his weight, she imagined she was a mermaid.

Not human, not fish. Drowning in the sea of disbelief, floating peacefully on a bed made from her salty tears, she closed her eyes and rode out the currant. The only hope was that she'd be pushed out to the eternal sea; where the pain would dissolve like the foam on the beach and she'd finally be free. She would be able to breathe again.

Each time it happened she'd swim further and further away. As time passed and the visits continued, she was so far gone into the deep depths of her mind she didn't know where the surface even was anymore.

Other girls talked about dances, dresses, and the enigma of their first kiss. Maura didn't understand them. Instead, she focused on the perfection of line, shape, and mathematics. She cherished how beautiful the control of science was, how predictable it all could be. For every action, there was an equal and opposite reaction.

Sometimes, a part of her would break off and float down to the sea below, much farther down than Maura had ventured. Much like the wreckage from a nautical disaster, it would sit there on the bottom with the silt and the sand until it eventually didn't resemble its original form any longer. Only when it was covered with barnacles and coral would the fish dare to inhabit it.

If it disrupted the bottom enough to stir the surface, Maura would delve into the depths to retrieve it; carefully bringing it back up to the surface to attempt to restore it and place it carefully from which it came. Only then would she feel she was 'fixable'; or at least certain triggers of hers could be rewired in her brain. The first time she had attempted a deep dive retrieval was terrifying; but necessary.

Jane had said something to her; something filthy while they had made love. It was unexpected and completely unintentional to be upsetting; but as soon as the statement graced the detective's lips Maura was forced to dive, hands outstretched, to retrieve the buried memory and bring it back to the surface to be changed into a better one.

"I'm gonna ruin you for anyone else. You'll only want me," the detective had panted in her ear; her long fingers buried inside of Maura pumped steadily.

He had said that to her once. Almost word for word. In that moment; Maura was terrified. In this moment with Jane she was more aroused than she had ever been. Maura kept her eyes open and focused on Jane's; unwilling to sink into the murky depths with the past. Jane's eyes were warm and inviting and filled with adoration. They held her prisoner while the gentle caress of her free hand gently traced Maura's face. It was as if Jane's very touch polished the tarnished memory; every thrust of her fingers combined with the gentle traces on Maura's face caused the past hurt to bobble harmlessly at the surface.

Without knowing what she was doing or how she was doing it, Jane had done an admirable job of trying to retrieve the damaged pieces of her soul. Maura knew that her own trips to the depths below had become less and less frequent as she had gotten older; it was safe to say she felt her soul was a veritable junkyard. Jane's love had valiantly encouraged her to regain her wholeness; but regardless of her delicate handling, some pieces were so rusted beyond repair that they couldn't come willingly back up to the surface and would break in transit.

When this happened it was the worst of all. How could she make Jane understand why she reacted to things the way she did? How could she explain to the Rizzoli family why she didn't want to open her birthday presents in front of them?

That regardless of how she had tried to restore this piece; it wasn't to be. She had to open her gifts at her twelfth birthday party with him sitting there, right behind her. When she opened a beautiful dress her mother had bought her and held it up to her he had smiled. That smile; the one that he gave her right before he unzipped his pants and pushed her head down, her hair held securely in this large hands. Maura dropped the dress as if it was on fire.

After countless other birthdays and countless other encouragements to open her presents at the party, Maura had carefully attempted to retrieve that memory time and time again; struggled without success to remove all negative thoughts from it. And for years, she had gone on, trying to avoid the situation. She normally spent her birthday alone, so it hadn't been an issue.

Jane came with a family; a loud and boisterous one at that. They loved celebrating and loved gifts; a dangerous situation for Maura. Shortly after she and Jane moved in together, Angela insisted on having a small housewarming party. Jane enjoyed opening their gifts with Maura making dutiful notes to send out thank you notes later.

All was well until Angela presented them each with a large box; a silly grin on her face. Maura politely protested; but Jane elbowed her with a gentle "C'mon, it'll make her happy."

She tried to control the tremble in her hands as she delicately removed the wrapping. Shaking; she opened the lid just as Jane opened hers and held it up to the watching crowd with a sarcastic eye roll. Angela had given her and Jane matching bathrobes. They were long and fluffy, and in no way risqué. However, she didn't miss the waggle of eyebrows between Frost and Korsak. Her knuckles were white around the pink robe in the attempt to continue breathing.

She murmured her thank-you, clutched Jane's shoulder as she excused herself and retreated to the bathroom; alone.

Maura shook her head to return to the present day and her weeding. The unpredictability of her emotional triggers was the salt in the wound; the run in the stocking; and the flaw in the stitching. Maura hadn't a clue when something would affect her, and how severely. And the unknown was what she feared the most; the unknown of how it would affect her relationship with Jane and with her own sanity.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note:

This fic has been difficult to write for numerous reasons. I am hopeful that you will try to stick it out and give me time to examine it at my own pace. Thanks for reading - I appreciate any and all feedback.

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"I'll see you later," Jane assured. "Love you."

The timbre of her voice flooded Maura with a rush of emotion. She longed to feel the taller woman's arms wrapped around her and enjoy the sensation of her chest rumbling as she spoke.

"Wake me when you get home. It doesn't matter how late," Maura responded quietly. She heard the detective exhale quietly; pausing for a brief second as if she wanted to say something else before ending the call.

After she clicked her phone screen to black Maura wearily sat back against the couch. Absentmindedly patting the small dog curled up next to her, she stared at the blank screen of the television. It was late and she wanted nothing more than to feel encapsulated in the safety Jane's presence provided.

From Jane's desolate tone, Maura could safely assume that the tall detective didn't think she would make it home. She was in the middle of terrible case; a young mother had been found murdered and her infant daughter was missing. Maura had performed the autopsy herself earlier in the day and knew she'd never be able to erase the woman's face from her mind. Cause of death was exsanguination due to a slice through the woman's jugularis externa and trachea. The killer had left her to die; taking the baby, formula, bottles, and diapers. From the bloodstains throughout the house and the abrasions on her hands and knees; it was clear the mother had crawled after the killer as he or she made their way throughout the house to collect the various items that were needed in order to care for the baby.

They had no leads on the case and none of the homicide detectives were willing to take a break searching for the killer and the kidnapper. An Amber Alert had been issued; and Maura couldn't even watch television without seeing the dead woman's face and alert information flash across the bottom of the screen.

Maura closed her eyes and willed her stomach to settle. She tried to erase from her mind the terror and the pain the woman must have felt; profusely bleeding from her throat, choking on her own blood, knowing she was going to die and her daughter was now in the hands of a murderer.

She opened her eyes and let the breath she had been holding for far too long exhale loudly. Jo twitched at the sound and Maura placed a comforting hand on the small terrier's side. The house was quiet; too quiet. She missed the comforting presence of Bass as he slowly thumped through the downstairs although she knew he was happy in his summer outdoor enclosure in the back yard.

A ghost of a smile graced her lips before she could help herself. How many nights, before Jane, had she spent like this? Loneliness had been no stranger; nor could she ever expect it to become one. Despite Jane's constant presence, Maura still felt the same on the inside.

"And isn't that rub, as Shakespeare would write? Huh Jo?" Maura spoke softly as to not disturb the sleeping dog. "Your mommy has proven to be a knight in shining armor; yet the princess is still locked high in her ivory tower."

She shook her head sadly before getting up from the couch. Would she ever feel differently inside?

Warm arms held her firmly in place. Maura fought valiantly against the restraint; unable to comprehend that the groggy voice that protested her frantic movements came from Jane.

Try as she might, she was unable to squirm free. Her mouth wasn't covered this time, but she was terrified to call out in case no one heard. Breaking free and running down the hall to her parent's room was her only hope.

"Stop," the detective growled deep in her throat. The sound made Maura fight harder against the larger body pressed against her. Strong arms held her arms at her side and a long leg was flung over hers. She knew what was coming. Maura knew she was trapped and began to panic as she struggled to wake herself up.

"Cut it out," the voice was angry. "What's wrong with you?"

She stopped moving; she couldn't get away, and the last thing she needed was for him to be angry with her. It would just make it worse. Instead, she resorted to survival mode; turning in her captors arms and pressing herself into the resented embrace. She felt her body start to respond to the tight hold; a persistent throbbing between her legs and flood of wetness. It was this that she hated the most; the betrayal of her own body.

"That's better," the voice said; placated now. The hold against her was lessened but Maura didn't try to flee. Instead she worked her free hand down her imprisoner's abdomen and teased the entrance of his thin boxer shorts.

She felt sick as she put her hand inside. Her eyes snapped open and she awoke fully when her hand found Jane instead of what she had expected.

"Mmm, good morning." Jane spoke sleepily as she pushed closer; burying her face in Maura's hair.

Maura didn't answer; her hand frozen. She took several shaky breaths as the realization of what just happened continued to flood her with various emotions; too many for her to handle at once. She swallowed noisily as she pressed her hand into Jane again and was rewarded by a low moan.

Tears sprang to her eyes and Maura valiantly tried to will them away. She had to maintain control; Jane could never know, she would never understand. She gently traced Jane's entrance before one courageous finger pushed inside. She felt her detective start to melt under her touch and it caused another flood of arousal to coat her own thighs. She welcomed it this time; knowing it was her true desire.

"Mmaaurrra," Jane warbled gently, still not completely awake.

"Yes, Jane?" She pushed another finger inside and felt the taller woman's breathing hitch.

"Feels good."

Maura brought her slowly to release and only did after the last and final shudder of her orgasm did Jane open her eyes; crooking one of them in Maura's direction. Removing Maura's hand, the detective straddled her; pressing her delightfully down into the mattress.

With an almost-feral grin she pushed the bottom of Maura's pajama top up. "Off," she commanded and with trembling hands Maura struggled to remove the offending garment. Jane then hooked her thumbs in the smaller woman's pajama bottoms. "These too. Now."

She canted her hips long enough for Maura to wriggle out of her bottoms. Once she was naked, the detective grinned wolfishly before taking one pert nipple in her mouth. She bit down gently and Maura moaned; her hands tangled in Jane's hair to encourage her further.

Maura had learned quickly that Jane was absolutely unable to keep her hands off of her after reaching her own climax. This morning was no different.

After a few minutes of delicious torture and Jane's refusal to touch Maura where she needed her the most; she released Maura's nipple with an audible pop. "What do you want?" Her voice was lower; almost by an octave, of its normal alto tone. She sported a mane of wild hair and an arrogant grin.

Maura's eyes flicked once to the nightstand and Jane's smirk grew wider.

"Say it," the detective demanded; her hips thrusting rudely against Maura's.

"I want you to fuck me," she demurred, never breaking eye contact.

Jane knew exactly what Maura was requesting and wasted no time reaching one long arm over to the drawer and removing the requested item. She easily pushed the smaller end inside of herself through the opening in her boxers. The other end bobbed obnoxiously against Maura's thigh as Jane leaned down to kiss her.

Teasingly, Jane rolled her hips against the smaller woman.

"Jane," Maura breathed, "please don't tease me."

"I know you hate it," Jane mocked as she rolled her hips again; the head of the dildo grazing Maura's swollen clit, "but you love it at the same time. I know you, Dr. Isles."

"Please."

"Please what?"

"Jane, please, you know what I want." Maura begged.

Mercifully, the detective took pity on her smaller partner and with one hard thrust drove completely inside of her.

The sensation of being willingly taken was one Maura couldn't get enough of. She clung to Jane like a lifeline; her fingers relishing the strength in Jane's musculature, heady on the knowledge that her detective would never harm her.

Jane's primal grunts as she thrust inside Maura were intoxicating and the smaller woman closed her eyes and sunk deeper into the giving mattress, her eyes falling shut. She felt herself drifting away; despite her reluctance to do so.

"Uh uh," Jane husked; her voice cracking. "Look at me."

Obediently, Maura was abruptly pulled back into the moment and her gaze met Jane's. She was immediately overwhelmed by what she saw there. Jane's eyes were molten chocolate and filled with both lust and adoration.

"I love you," the detective warbled as she rolled her hips in the way that Maura craved. A wolfish smile and arrogant eyes accompanied her undulating motion. She grasped Maura's hands in hers and pushed herself upwards, pumping steadily, and the sensation of being consumed by Jane had Maura welcoming her orgasm.

Spent, they relaxed into each other's embrace. Jane peppered kisses down the glistening column of Maura's lithe neck and the smaller woman smiled gently. After a few more minutes of gentle cuddling, Jane spoke.

"Hi," her low voice croaked, "that's a hell of a way to wake up."

Maura smiled bashfully in return before tucking herself back into the comfort of Jane's embrace. She wanted nothing more than to feel the detective's long arms entrap her and chase the remaining demons away.

"Oh no, you're not getting off that easy," Jane said and Maura knew she was smirking. "Well, maybe that's wrong choice of words. It certainly seemed easy." It was clear the tall detective was quite proud of herself.

Maura patted her hand affectionately. "With you, it's always easy. I'm like a polyvinyl alcohol silicone product that turns dilatant when in contact with your body heat."

She groaned good-naturedly. "Maur," she growled, "it's so early."

"I'm trying to say that I'm putty in your hands, Jane." She buried her nose in Jane's wild mane of hair and snuggled closer. Jane didn't need to know the reason Maura had woken her in such a manner; it would just upset her. It was better to play it safe; what Jane didn't know wouldn't hurt her.


End file.
